A/N: Hey guys, just quick update to anyone who's reading. As lockdown in the UK is being eased off, I'm going back to work on Thursday. I work full-time and am out of the house for good 12 hours 5 days a week. So after today's chapter I'll post again on Sunday and then update weekly every Sunday. Hope you understand and that you all still staying safe and coutious.
"Holy shit," One of the inmates said. Yep, they were very alive, stuck in the cafeteria. Well, at least we found what we came looking for, I guess. But right now, Hershel was lying down on the ground, bleeding out.
"Elena," Rick whispered to me, motioning at the prisoners. I took out my gun and stood next to Daryl, who had already walked around to have a better shot at those people.
"Who the hell are ya?" The hunter asked.
"Who the hell are you?" One of them, Spanish looking man, answered.
"He's bleeding out." I heard Rick behind me, but my focus was on aiming a gun at the potential threat.
"We have to go back."
"Put pressure on a knee."
I crept forward, my Glock up, while I spoke calmly. "Get out of there, slowly. Arms up."
"What happened to him?" The Latino asked when they slowly came around from behind the cage. His eyes were trained on unconscious Hershel.
"He got bit," Daryl answered them, not lowering his crossbow.
"Yeah, bit. What planet you live on?" I asked them, watching their confused faces. They came closer, and I heard T standing next to me, his gun cocked and aimed in their general direction.
"Whoa, easy now," Daryl told them, shifting his stance slightly, when Latino took out his own gun, moving his hand between us, not sure who to point it at.
"You have medical supplies?" Glenn asked, walking past us, further into the kitchen, completely ignoring the fact that we don't know these people. Or that he walked between four loaded guns.
"Glenn!" I hissed after him, but he ignored me, looking for anything that may help.
"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" The big Black man asked, but he as well was ignored.
"Who the hell are you people, anyway?" The Latino asked, looking at us. Alrighty, so he seemed like a leader, so I spoke directly to him.
"Look, no need for all of this. We going to leave." He glanced at me, and then his eyes traveled up and down my body, making me feel uneasy. Why do men always think about that when they meet a woman?
"You don't look like a rescue team." Short white guy with the hideous mustache said.
"If a rescue team is what you're waiting for, don't," Rick grunted from behind me, lifting up Hershel, putting him in sitting position.
"Elevate his leg, so the blood goes to his heart," I ordered and saw Maggie doing it immediately.
"Come on, we gotta go!" Rick stated, and Glenn came running with a wheely table, to put Hershel on. While they loaded the man on it, I motioned at T-Dog, and we walked towards the door. With Glock in my right hand and machete in the left, I observed the entrance, waiting for Rick and others.
"T, the door!" The sheriff yelled, and the Black man moved to the door, looking over at me, silently asking if I was ready.
"Are you crazy?" One of the prisoners asked, and I sent him a wicked smile. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and I cracked my neck, to release the tension.
"Open it, T!"
T-Dog pulled his poker out, and seconds later first walker, in riot gear, pushed past the door. T pushed him and stuck his weapon under its chin. I shot down the next two geeks and kicked the third, pushing him out of the room.
"Go, go!" I cried out, moving out of the doors and slashing at the walker's head.
"Which way, Elena?" Now that I knew that we were in the cafeteria, it was easy to recall in my mind the small map I found.
"This way!"
I led us back into our cellblock. Now, that time was of the essence, we didn't care about being quiet. Running down the corridors, I shot at the few walkers that stumbled in our way. After a few more halls, we finally got to the one we recognized with white arrows, pointing towards cellblock C.
"Stop, stop." I heard Rick behind me, and I glanced back to see the shadows on the wall where we came from. Those pricks were following us.
"Come on, let's go, we're nearly there," I whisper-yelled at them, and they started to push the table again. We jogged forward, and when we finally got to the gate leading to the common area, Daryl pushed past the others, unlocking the gate. I went in first, running forward.
"Carl!" I shouted, trying to get the boy's attention. "Carl, open the gate!"
"Carl, open it! It's Hershel!" Rick yelled as well, and I saw Carol and Lori's worried faces while the kid stuck the key into the lock. I let them pull Hershel inside, and T shut the gate behind them.
"Stay here, just in case," I told him lowly and rushed back to Daryl.
The hunter dropped the keys on one of the tables and loaded his crossbow. I ejected my clip, five bullets left. I sighed and put the magazine back, chambering one in and reached for throwing knife, so I had a ranged weapon in each hand. Daryl propped his leg on one of the chairs, aiming at the entrance.
I stood next to him, my legs spread, my hands gripping my Glock and knife tightly. We waited, footsteps echoing from the depths of the prison getting louder with each passing second. I breathed in and out, slowing down my heart rate, putting a blank expression on my face.
Finally, slowly, the Latino got out of the shadows, stepping into the main room. One at the time, five inmates came in, allowing me to really look at them, now that we got Hershel back.
The Latino looked sketchy, thin mustache on his face, and shoulder-length hair slung out of his face. The next one was a short Black dude and then the Big, also dark-skinned. The white guy with a mustache out of the old western movies and a medium-sized Black man. We could take them if shove comes to push.
"That's far enough," Daryl stated in a gruff voice.
"Cellblock C. Cell four, that's mine, gringo. Let me in." The Latino grunted, coming further into the room. Yeah, he definitely acted like a leader of these bunch.
"Today's yur lucky day, fellas. Ya've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. Ya're free to go." If we wouldn't be in a potentially hostile situation, I'd laugh at Daryl's comment. I loved his dry, sarcastic sense of humor.
"Whatcha got going on in there?"
"None of your business, that's what," I answered coldly, aiming at his head.
"Don't tell me what's my business, puta," The Latino growled at me, taking his gun from the front of his pants. I straightened my back, moving my finger towards the trigger.
"I'll shoot you before you're able to say 'freedom'," I told him, raising my eyebrow, observing his movements. He acted like a gang member, cocky and arrogant, thinking that he's some kind of bad boy.
"Chill, man." The Big guy said gently, trying to defuse the situation. "Dude's leg's messed up. Besides, we're free now. Why we still here?
"Man's got a point," Daryl told them, and I nodded in agreement. From what I could say about their body language, only Latino and small Black guy were posing any danger. For some reason, they were adamant about following us, and now trying to go back inside the cells.
"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," The medium-sized guy added. I furrowed my brows and glanced at Daryl. It seems like those guys had no clue what's happening outside of the prison. At all.
"Group of civilians breaking into a prison you've got no business being in, got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go," Latino said, smirking in my direction.
"Why don't you go find out?" Daryl leaned more on his leg, clenching his jaw.
"Maybe we'll just be going now," The Mustache started slowly, looking between Dixon and me.
"That'd be the smartest decision of your life," I told him, but my eyes were trained on the Spanish man.
"Hey, we ain't leaving," He answered and licked his lips, looking down at my chest.
"And you sure as hell not coming in, so we're at an impasse, puto." I hissed at him, shifting my position with my Glock steadily pointing at his head.
"Listen to the lady!" T-Dog came in, cocking his gun, and standing on the other side of me. That made Latino move his arm, aiming at T now, his eyes scanning our faces.
"It is my house, my rules."
"Listen, dickhead. It's not your house. You have one gun. What you think you'll achieve? Cause you shoot one of us, you going to be dead in seconds. Do you want to die?" I tilted my head, but he seemed so full of himself that he basically ignored me.
"I go where I damn well please, bitch."
"Call her that one more time, I dare ya," Daryl growled beside me.
"There's nothing here for you, just get out," I told them sternly, trying to put some sense in their heads.
"We're not going anywhere. You broke into our home. How about you leave, puta?"
"Ain't happenin'. I ain't gonna tell ya again!"
"Or what, Robin Hood?"
I huffed and stepped closer to the Latino, blood boiling under my skin. "You have exactly ten seconds to get out of here before I shoot you. I didn't kill anyone this week, and I'm all sorts of itchy."
"You think you can intimidate me?" He laughed at me, glancing back at his fellow prisoners.
"Ten," I started counting.
"Maybe we should just go, Tomas." The Big guy said. So the dickhead's name was Tomas, good to know.
"Nine."
"We ain't going. It's our prison, not those pricks."
"Eight."
"Look, Ma'am, we don't want no trouble, please," Mustache stated, raising his arms in surrender.
"Seven."
"She ain't gonna shoot us."
"Six."
"Enough!" Rick's voice echoed in the room, making me stop counting, but I was still pointing at Tomas, ready in case he would make any sudden movements. Or anything that would just give me an excuse to kill him, really.
"Everyone relax. There's no need for this." Rick said in a calm voice, I could feel his presence behind me, so I moved slightly towards Daryl, so the sheriff could see the prisoners properly.
"How many of you in there?" Tomas asked, trying to peek through the gate to see the rest of our group.
"Too many for you to handle."
"You guys rob a bank or something? Why don't you take him to a hospital?"
"They don't know, Rick," I said as a realization dawned on me. There were handcuffs on the cafeteria doors, so they were locked in there. They had only one gun and no other weapons of any sort. With how infested the prison corridors are, it seems like they were locked in there since the beginning. Rick looked me in the eye before averting his eyes back to the men in front of us.
"How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?" The sheriff asked them in a calmer tone.
"Going on like ten months," Tomas answered, looking between us, shifting in his spot.
"Riot broke out. Never seen anything like it." The Big guy said, shaking his head at the memory. I glanced at Daryl, his bright blue eyes catching mine for a second. That's how it started, then.
"Attica on speed, man," Mustache stated, making me release a loud sigh. They were like children kept in the dark. They had no fucking clue what happened in the last ten months, and we were about to break their bubble.
"Ever heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life?" The small guy asked, looking at us for answers. I snorted and nodded.
"One guard looked out for us, locked us up in the cafeteria, told us to sit tight, threw me his piece, said he'll be back," Tomas added to the story.
"Yeah, and that was two hundred ninety-two days ago."
"Ninty-four, according to my-"
"Shut up!" Latino hissed at the inmates.
"We've been thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now." The medium-sized man said, not intimidated by Tomas, he seemed like a reasonable guy.
"There is no army," Rick finally told them slowly.
"What do you mean?"
"No army, no police, no government. No phones, internet. Civilization collapsed. The world you knew is dead." I told them, lowering my gun slowly and putting away the knife back into reins. They were scared, haven't seen other living people in months. They were no treat, besides Tomas.
"For real?" Mustache asked, fear crossing his face.
"Yeah, for real."
"What about my moms?" The Big guy asked, and I felt a pang of pity towards him and the others. But they weren't the only people who never had a chance to say goodbye to the loved ones.
"And my kids. And my old lady." The medium-sized man whispered to himself, then he moved forward, determination on his face. "You sure phones don't work? Do you have any? Can I check?"
"No phones, no computers," Rick said, shaking his head. "As far as we can see, at least half the population's been wiped out, probably more."
Their faces dropped, realization dawning on them, Tomas slowly lowered his gun, looking at us in shock.
"Ain't no way."
"Come, see," I said gently, grabbing Daryl's keys from the table and moved towards the door, leading out of the cellblock. I opened them and climbed down the stairs, the sun hitting my skin, making me squint my eyes for a second.
I waited for the men to catch up with me, Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog behind them.
"Welcome to the apocalypse, guys." That made them flinch, glancing at each other. They were scared, new to this world.
Dixon stopped next to me, our arms touching lightly, comforting.
"Good lord. They're all dead." Mustache said, looking around on the scattered corpses. That couldn't be easy for them, they probably knew most of them.
"Never thought I'd be happy to see these fences," Tomas said, looking around and lifting his face to the sun.
"You never said, how the hell did you get in here in the first place," The small black dude asked us, looking at Daryl and me.
"Cut a hole in that fence over there by the guard tower." The hunter replied, pointing at the space far ahead.
"That easy, huh?"
"Where there's a will, there's a way."
"Easy for you to say,"
"It's not easy," I stated, staring the short guy down. "But we lived out there for ten fucking months. You learn how to cope and what you need to do."
"So, what is this, like a disease?" The Big guy asked, poking one of the dead walkers with a stick.
"Yeah," Rick answered. "And we're all infected."
"What do you mean infected? Like AIDS, or something?" Mustache asked, and I snorted, man, they are dumb.
"If I was to kill ya, shoot an arrow in yur chest, ya'd come back as one of these things," Daryl was the one to answer, and Tomas scoffed, shaking his head.
"Ain't no way this Robin Hood cat's responsible for killing all these freaks."
"A group effort," I replied, shrugging as if it was nothing.
"Must be fifty bodies out here."
"Where'd you come from?" Tomas asked, looking at Rick. This guy really put my body on edge, he was unpredictable, and that's never a good sign.
"Atlanta," The Sheriff replied, looking down at his hands.
"Where you headed?"
"For now, nowhere." Rick lifted his head and took a few steps towards the Latino. I rested my hand on my gun that I stored into the holster. The familiar sense of cold metal under my fingertips calmed me down a little bit.
"I guess you could take that area there near the water. Should be comfortable." Tomas pointed at the distant corner of the courtyard. I exchanged glances with Daryl and T-Dog. If this guy really thought we just going to disappear or listen to his directions, then he was simply delusional. Though I guess that was a part of his narcissistic personality.
"We're using that field for crops," Rick told him, not intimidated one bit, but it was like Tomas didn't even listen to his answer.
"We'll help you move your gear out."
"I don't think you understand your situation," I said, stepping next to Rick, tilting my head and smirking at Tomas. "We came here, killed all of those walkers, cleared the cellblock. We broke you out. If not for us, you'd die once you'd run out of food. There are more of us than you. And we have more weapons, not that I'd need a weapon to kill your ass. So let's get one thing clear. You have no say in what happens at this prison."
"And what we gonna do now? Like you said, you snatched the locks off our door," The short guy came butted in again, while Tomas was watching me intensely.
"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it," Rick spoke, I was really impressed at how calm he was.
"This is our prison," Tomas said, looking me directly in the eyes. "But you and me, we could figure something out, if you catch my drift."
"This was your prison, not anymore," I said and then looked him up and down, slowly, showing distaste on my face. "And I wouldn't touch you with a stick if you catch my drift."
"Listen, chica, we're moving back into our cellblock."
"You'll have to get your own," Rick told him, pushing me back gently.
"You scared I'll hurt her?" Tomas mocked him when he saw the gesture, and the sheriff smirked, shaking his head.
"No, I'm trying to stop her from killing you. Daryl."
After a second, I felt a hand on my elbow, and the hunter pulled me back to stand further down the back. I scoffed at him and crossed my arms.
"Look, we moving back. I still got personal artifacts down there. That's about as mine as it gets," Tomas rose his voice and reached for his gun, making T-Dog, Daryl, and I to do this same. So now we're back to pointing firearms at each other. Can we just finish this, one way or another?
"Whoa, whoa, whoa."
"Maybe let's try to make this work out, so everybody wins," The Mustache interrupted, moving between us, bringing his hands up, trying to calm us down.
"I don't see that happening."
"Neither do I."
"I ain't going back in that cafeteria for one more minute."
"There are other cellblocks," The Mustache stated, and that was true, but still the idea of those guys, just next doors, not the best in the world.
"Ya could leave," Daryl said in a hoarse voice, he had his crossbow trained on Tomas, ready to shoot that man any minute. "Try yur luck out on the road."
Everyone was silent for a moment; the Latino clearly weighing his options in his mind. He looked around, first at our group, then at his fellow inmates. After a minute, he shrugged his shoulders, nodding to himself.
"If these four pussies can do all this, least we can do is take out another cell block."
"With what?" The Big guy asked, which made Tomas look directly at Rick with a small smirk.
"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons. Won't you boss?"
"How stocked is that cafeteria?" Rick asked him after a moment of silence. Ah, quid pro quo, good thinking Officer. "Must have plenty of food- five guys lasting almost a year."
"Sure as hell don't look like anybody's been starvin'," Daryl added, catching Tomas' attention.
"There's only a little left," The Latino man answered, and Rick glanced at me, and I shook my head.
"We'll take half," Rick stated, not really concerned with how much is left. "In exchange, we'll help clear put a cell block."
"Didn't you hear him?" The short guy said aggressively. "There's only a little left."
The sheriff looked at me again, and I smirked. "Lie. Again."
"See, Elena here can read micro-expressions, fairly well. So she knows when someone lies. It seems like you have more food than you let on. Plus, you don't really get a choice." Rick told them confidently. "You pay, we'll play. We'll clear out a block for you, then you keep to it."
"Alright," Tomas nodded, finally agreeing.
"But let's be clear. If we see you out here, anywhere near our people, if I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent, I will kill you."
"Deal."
We went with the inmates back to the cafeteria, to split the food. I haven't seen that much food in months, well, since we had to leave Palmetto. We took half, just like we said we'll. Then we equipped the prisoners in some crowbars and other pipes and tried to explain how to kill the walkers.
The first attempt was pathetic, and that's me being nice. They stabbed, slashed, kicked, and punched at every single part of the walker's body except the fucking brain. After we specifically told them that that's the place they need to aim for.
And then we lost fucking Big Tiny, the Big black guy. He got scared when the bigger group of walkers approached us, and he backed up, without letting anyone know. So he got bitten, on the back of his shoulder, so there was no way that we could do anything about it like we did with Hershel.
It was a shame, really, he was the nicest out of all the prisoners. I thought that we just going to deal with it as usual. Let him say goodbye, and then, well, wait for the fever to take him. Then hit his brain. But no, Tomas had a different idea; out of the blue, the Latino man just struck down Big Tiny in the head. And he didn't stop until the Black man's head was just a bloody mass on the floor.
After that, when we moved on towards block B, Daryl kept me next to him, and Rick stayed behind too.
"You see the look on his face?" Daryl whispered to the sheriff, who nodded.
"He makes one move."
"Just give us a sign," I added, clenching my jaw and tightening the grip on the machete. The other guys didn't seem that bad. And Andrew, the short Black guy, he seemed to follow Tomas for protection. But the Latino? He was a psychopath, and I could only guess what he was imprisoned for. I saw too many guys like him in my life, but now I didn't have restrictions of the law. We were making our own.
The entrance to the cell block B was next to the laundry room, which was luckily empty. Rick motioned at Daryl, and hunter tossed his keys to Tomas, making them land at man's feet. The Latino looked at them and then back at Dixon.
"I ain't opening that."
"Yes, you are," Rick answered him, his voice cold, not carrying. "If you want this cell block, you're gonna open that door. Just the one. Not both of them, because we need to control this."
Tomas slowly picked up the keys and exchanged a look with Andrew, a kind of look that I didn't particularly like.
"Be careful," I whispered to Rick, not taking my eyes off the door, and shifting my stance, raising the machete. I stood between Daryl and T-Dog, watching our backs.
Tomas fidgeted with the keys, looking for the right one before he finally unlocked it.
"You bitches ready?" He pulled the handle, but nothing happened. The man chuckled nervously, pulling harder until it gave in. Both of them. Tomas stumbled back from the entrance, walkers pushing at the doors.
"I said one door!" Rick yelled while Tomas moved backward, so now the sheriff was on the front line, slashing at the first walker that approached him.
"Shit happens."
I stabbed at the coming geek, while Daryl stayed behind, loading his crossbow with a new bolt. I kicked the other one and slashed off half of its brain. At this same time, Tomas swang widely with his own blade, nearly slicing Rick's face. And then, like it's nothing this fucking bastard, grabbed one of the walkers and pushed it towards the sheriff.
Rick wasn't expecting it, the walker's momentum and strength pushed them both to the floor. The geek tried to bite sheriff's face, and without thinking, I rushed forward, throwing my knife at its head. It went still, and Daryl, who appeared beside me, grabbed it and pushed it off Rick.
I turned around, stabbing another one, sweat dripping down my face and back, while Dixon helped Rick up. When there was just one walker left, I walked over, back to the one that attacked Rick, and pulled the knife out of its head.
"It was coming at me, bro," Tomas exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders. I scowled, and shifted my stance, my right leg slightly behind.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Rick replied, nodding, his voice was hoarse, and his forehead was glistening from sweat. "I get it. Shit happens."
It was just a millisecond. Rick glanced in my direction, and the right side of my body moved swiftly. Leg to the front, hand thrusting upwards, my throwing knife plunging in Tomas' temple. His body froze, with mouth open and wide eyes, and his now dead body fell to the floor.
Andrew screamed, lifting his baseball bat, but before he could move, Rick kicked him in the chest, pushing him to the ground. The Black man quickly rose to his feet, and Daryl was ready to shoot his ass, but Rick lifted his hand, letting the man ran away.
"I got him," sheriff ran after Andrew, and I pulled my Glock out, pointing it at Axel, the Mustache guy. His face was full of fear, especially when he looked at my blank and cold expression. He held his arms up in surrender.
"Get down on your knees," Daryl ordered, aiming his crossbow at Oscar, who dropped his ax, kicking it away, and doing as told. Axel quickly followed.
"We don't have no affiliation with what just happened," The Mustache told us, shaking slightly and glancing at his last remaining friend. "Tell them, Oscar."
"Stop talking, man." Oscar shook his head; resignation was evident on his face.
"Tell you what fellas," I told them coldly. "We going to wait for Rick. Then you will have a chance to speak. Depending on if I think it's true, and if Rick thinks it's right, you may live."
Rick decided to let Oscar and Axel live. We walked them into their new cell block, told them to burn the bodies of walkers. And then we left.
I was exhausted, my whole body ached. I was covered in blood, and I had another name on the list of people I killed. This one didn't bother me that much. Tomas was a psychopath who knows what he'd do if he was allowed to live.
Rick told us what happened to Andrew, that he ran into the walkers, and sheriff locked him outside. It was a bit cruel, but then that's life now, and I suspected that the Black man would like revenge on us if he'd be alive. So it's better that way, safer. For Lori, Carol and Beth, and all the others.
We walked into our cell block, our home, for now, to be greeted by Carl.
"Hershel stopped breathing. Mom saved him."
"It's true," Glenn confirmed what the boy said, he looked tired as well, though it was more emotional than physical. Hell, we all were exhausted. It seemed like we just can't catch the break, no matter how good everything seems to be.
Rick passed his keys to his son and walked inside the cell, where Hershel was lying. Daryl leaned against the doorframe, and I stood next to him, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder. Trying to reassure the boy that everything's going to be alright.
"Still no fever," Lori spoke, from the corner of the cell.
I looked at Hershel and bit my lip, trying to stop it from trembling. Now that adrenaline left my body, I felt fatigued and hungry. And I finally allowed myself to be scared for that old man, who became like a father to the rest of us. He looked so small and fragile with pale skin, unmoving. And oh, God. Even if he survives, if we would have to run from the prison at any point, he will have smaller chances than any of us.
We all stilled, when Hershel started mumbling, and it looked like he tried to say something, through his unconscious state. And then, slowly with a low grunt, he opened his eyes. His human, blue eyes.
Everyone exhaled in relief. I squeezed Carl's shoulder and let him go when he stepped forward, closer to bed. I smiled softly, at Maggie and Beth, they were crying from happiness. I walked away silently when Rick grabbed Hershel's hand, sitting down next to him.
I walked down the cellblock to the cell, where I knew they put food. I walked in, grabbed a few protein bars and a can of sweetcorn, and a bottle of water. I climbed up and plunged myself at the mattress on the perch, and opened the tin. I quickly ate half of it and left the rest for Daryl whenever he would come.
I drank slowly from the bottle, and layed down on my side, facing away from the entrance, so the rest could see me. And I finally let myself go. The stress of today, hell, of the past months, washing away with a silent cry.
I buried my face in Daryl's pillow, inhaling his scent, which always seemed to calm me down. We were finally behind the closed walls, yet still, we managed to nearly lose one of us, kill three surviving prisoners.
I knew that securing this place won't be easy, but it was worth it. For Lori and her baby, Carl, the others.
I froze when someone wrapped their arms around me.
"Shh, just me," Daryl whispered in my ear, and at hearing his soft voice, a sob escaped my lips. He pulled at my shoulder, and I turned around, facing him.
Daryl sneaked one arm under my head, and the other pressed me tightly to his chest. He let me cry, gently caressing my back, running a hand through my messy curls. Until there were no more tears, only tiredness left. And slowly, listening to his steady heartbeat, with Daryl's arms around me, his chin on top of my head, I drifted off into the darkness. Hoping that tomorrow there will be no losses.